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It’s my party. I’ll cry if I want to. You’d cry too, if it happened to you. At least I got my Edmund Burke book in the mail. I didn’t plan it that way, but it worked out kind of nice. It feels good to get a package on your birthday, even if it is from yourself.
But I still feel this unfortunate association between my birthday and my old salvation fantasies, in which I am miraculously rescued from my lowly led life. Since nobody is going to sweep in and save me and drop a million dollars on me, I cannot help always feeling a little depressed on my birthday. And at this point, what could such salvation mean anyway, after losing thirty years - my twenties, thirties, and now my forties? There is nothing left to really save. Though, I guess it would be nice to decline through old age in greater comfort and die more easily.
But I still feel this unfortunate association between my birthday and my old salvation fantasies, in which I am miraculously rescued from my lowly led life. Since nobody is going to sweep in and save me and drop a million dollars on me, I cannot help always feeling a little depressed on my birthday. And at this point, what could such salvation mean anyway, after losing thirty years - my twenties, thirties, and now my forties? There is nothing left to really save. Though, I guess it would be nice to decline through old age in greater comfort and die more easily.
